


show me your soul

by thunderylee



Category: Green Day, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Crossdressing, Infidelity, Light D/s, M/M, POV First Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-13
Updated: 2006-04-13
Packaged: 2019-02-08 01:06:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12853416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Everybody lies to themselves. It’s one of the few constants in an otherwise variable world.





	show me your soul

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

Another day, another dollar. That’s what they say, right? Of course, taking into account the economical inflation by the turn of the millennium and my actual line of work, the proper phrase would be, “Another day, another $500.”

I believe it’s a Sunday night. The streets of San Francisco are slow despite the holiday weekend, which means business is as well. One would think that the new year – the new _millennium_ , even – would depress people enough to resort to an escort for the evening.

Unfortunately, the city seems to be rather content with itself, leaving the streets empty. Except for me, of course. In my high-heeled shoes and fishnet stockings, skimpy dress and wig, I almost pass for a woman. Most of the time they don’t care; this _is_ San Francisco, after all. Sometimes they _do_ care but will still pay me to suck them off. A mouth is a mouth in the dark.

My friends think I’m crazy, doing this to myself almost every night of the week. I tell them I’m doing this for _them_ – for our _band_ – but they continue to give me a hard time about it. I kept it a secret for almost a year until one of them happened to approach me one night. That was a rather awkward moment, but my brother stated that if he had to choose, he’d rather I do this than sell drugs.

Because he understands. I _like_ it. I enjoy dressing up in drag and pleasing men. I like the attention they give me; I like the way they look at me. I may be a whore, but I’m a “pretty whore” and a “good cocksucker” with a “hot, tight ass.”

And my friends never complain when I buy them new equipment or clothes with my earnings. They don’t complain when they see my spacious apartment with expensive furniture and state-of-the-art electronics. They don’t complain when I drive them places in my Cadillac convertible. And they certainly don’t complain when I give them freebies.

~*~*~*~

I see him before he sees me. He’s walking quickly and glancing around nervously, as if he has a destination but is not quite sure about it. I recognize him immediately – who _wouldn’t_? – but resist the urge to approach him. He looks uncomfortable enough without me running up to him in my heels begging for an autograph.

His eyes catch mine and I can see the realization dawning in them. He’s always had beautiful eyes, gracing the cover of magazines for years. He knows immediately that I am a man, and somehow that seems to put him at ease. His strides are more confident as he makes his way towards me, big green eyes outlined in black staring straight into mine until he is within speaking distance.

He leans against the wall directly next to me; our shoulders brush. I watch in silence as he lights a cigarette and offers me one. I accept and we smoke for a moment before he speaks.

“I’m married,” he says firmly, holding the cigarette in his left hand so that I can see the wedding band.

“I’m straight,” I counter, adjusting the falsies in my bra.

He smirks and takes another drag. “Isn’t it great how we lie to ourselves?”

Chuckling, I turn to face him. “Everybody lies to themselves. It’s one of the few constants in an otherwise variable world.”

“How profound.” He meets my eyes. “So where do you draw the line between lying to yourself and living the lie?”

“Between us, I’d assume.”

He keeps his eyes on mine as he takes a final drag and flicks the butt blindly into the street. “Business slow tonight?”

“More nonexistent, really,” I reply, tossing my own butt.

“Everyone’s still celebrating – or recovering – I’d think,” he says thoughtfully. “And of course there are those of us who are overwhelmed and uncertain about the future.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“I was.”

I briefly wonder if he plans on talking to me all night before realizing that it doesn’t matter. Five years ago I would have given anything to be standing here engaging in conversation with this man, although I don’t think I would have ever imagined it being under these circumstances. There are so many questions I want to ask him, mostly about his band and the music industry, but somehow that seems inappropriate given his demeanor and the fact that I am dressed like a whore.

“So what’s on the menu?” he asks suddenly, as though we’re discussing restaurant food instead of my services.

“Whatever you want to pay for,” I answer coolly, smiling for effect.

He sees right through this. “Anything? There’s nothing off-limits?”

“I’m a rather open-minded individual.”

He lowers his gaze to my ensemble and returns to my eyes. “Obviously.”

“I like it,” I say defensively. “It makes me feel good.”

“Me too,” he replies cryptically.

“What’ll it be, then?”

He looks uncomfortable and stalls with a sigh. “I-I don’t know. Money isn’t an issue, it’s just… I’ve never done this before.”

I nod. “Seems to me you wouldn’t need to.”

He blinks. “So you know who I am?”

“Yes.” I can’t stop myself from smiling for real. “I’m a big fan, actually. I’m in a band as well. If it makes you feel better, you can consider this a donation.”

He laughs out loud, a laugh which echoes through the desolate streets. “Surprisingly, that does make me feel better.”

“Do you want to go into the alley?” I point down the dark, dead-end street to the left of my corner.

He pauses. “Yes.”

~*~*~*~

Pushed up against the brick wall, my legs wrapped around his waist, his touch courses through me like an electrical shock. Not only is he kissing me, he’s kissing me _fervently_ ; I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone this intimate before. His hands are clutching the backs of my thighs, holding me up while rubbing his thumbs along my skin.

It’s not often that I actually acquire a desire for someone; I am usually left hanging after performing a blow or receiving a fuck. But as he presses against me, the hardness evident even between his jeans and my thong, I am overcome with _want_.

He moans into my mouth as he begins grinding into me, gripping my thighs harder and meshing our tongues together. One of my hands moves up into his hair on its own accord, my fingers tousling through the black curls slicked with gel. I give his hair an experimental tug, to which he groans deeply and thrusts against me so hard that I think he might push me through the wall.

Abruptly, he breaks the kiss and rests his chin on my shoulder, speaking directly into my ear. “Anything?”

“Anything,” I reply, resisting the urge to add _for you_.

“I want you to fuck me,” he says, his voice much lower than normal. “I want you to treat me like _I’m_ the whore. Control me; _dominate_ me.”

“I can do that.” My words come out as a breath as my brain flies out of my ear. For a quick second, I actually consider the possibility that this is a dream and I’m going to wake up any time now. Until I feel his tongue outline the inner shell of my ear and he whispers, “Thank you, Master.”

In one swift motion, I turn us around so that he’s the one pinned to the wall. The heat from his eyes could nuke the entire world, and the adrenaline in my veins is enough to make me forget who I am and _where_ I am, but not with whom.

I run my hands underneath his shirt, letting my fake nails drag along his sides. “Drop your pants.”

He fumbles with his belt and struggles to lower the tight material over his bulging erection. My lips fuse to his neck on their own accord, but I am careful not to leave a mark. Blindly, I lower my hands to discover bare hips, tracing the bones with my fingertips and slowly making my way towards his cock.

A strained groan emerges from his lungs at first contact, at which I drag all ten fingers along his length before gripping firmly in one hand and lifting his leg with the other. “There’s a tube of lube in my cleavage,” I whisper hoarsely. “Retrieve it and prepare yourself.”

I feel a shaky hand reach between my falsies and obtain the tube. I stroke him lazily as he coats two fingers and inserts them between his legs, his hand bumping against where mine is clutching his hip.

His grunts and moans go straight to my cock, which is throbbing madly in my thong and begging for friction. In an effort to keep from exploding, I let go of his cock to fish a condom out of my stockings and roll it on. I step out of my thong, kicking it carelessly aside while hitching up my skirt to expose my erection. I catch him looking down at it through squinted eyes, licking his lips.

“You want that?” I growl into his ear. “You want my hard cock in your hot, tight ass?” I squeeze his hip as I speak, and it’s amazing the effect these words have when they’re not being spoken to me.

“Oh, God,” he gasps, withdrawing his fingers. “I’m ready. Please… please, _Master_ … fuck me.”

I lift him up with both hands, spreading his legs over my arms and positioning my cock at his entrance. My face is inches from his, and I wonder what he’s thinking right before he’s about to be fucked by someone who looks like a woman. His eyes burn with submission; it’s a lost, helpless look I have experienced many times but never before seen.

“It’s odd that you mention God at a time like this,” I whisper, the words not even registering in my head. “I doubt He would approve.”

I catch him glancing at the ring on his finger and consider stopping. Until he says, “Only God can forgive me tonight.”

Without any further thought, I begin pressing the head of my cock through the tight ring of muscles. His breath ghosts my face as he attempts to relax his body in order to let me in. The slick heat encompasses my cock as I bury myself to the hilt. I pause for a moment, enjoying the new form of pleasure before beginning to move.

“Fuck,” he breathes, the vulgar word causing me to speed up my efforts. “Oh, _fuck_ … God, yes… Oh, _right there_.”

I angle his hips upward and groan as his walls tighten around me, taking care to hit that same spot repeatedly. His hands are grasping my shoulders, blunt nails digging into my bare skin, and his mouth is kissing any part of my face that he can reach. I tilt my head to meet his lips and instantly his tongue is swirling around mine at the same intensity that I am driving into him.

“Touch yourself,” I mumble against his lips. “Come with me.”

I feel his throaty groan before it’s audible. He reaches one of his hands down between us to seize his cock and pump vigorously. I quicken my pace, pulling almost all of the way out before slamming back into him, his ass clenching around my cock as he nears his release.

It takes a better man than me to keep my eyes open during orgasm, but I try my damnedest as he does the same. I can’t hold back anymore as he spills onto his stomach and my dress, his groans and loud breathing surrounding me as I come. I continue thrusting jerkily into him as I ride out the aftershocks, finally lowering his legs to the ground as my now-flaccid cock withdraws and hangs limply against my thigh, the full condom threatening to fall off.

Quickly, I tear off the condom and toss it in the nearby dumpster, cringing at the ripping-off-the-band-aid effect it has on my sensitive flesh. I realize belatedly that I have him in some sort of awkward embrace, as though his knees would give out on him and he would slide to the floor if he wasn’t in my arms.

He leans his forehead against mine, panting for air. “Thank you,” he says again. “I needed that.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply just as breathlessly. _So did I_.

~*~*~*~

I return to my apartment after the awkward good-bye, not bothering to finish the night due to the lack of business and the dubious stain on my dress. My mind was racing at the fact that I had not only met one of my musical idols, but I had actually fucked him and been paid for it. Paid rather well, even. His exact words were, “I want to be your last.”

I call my brother, knowing that he will be awake despite the ungodly hour.

“I’m done,” I say simply. “We can move forward now. Get this band on the road.”

He scoffs at me with yawn. “What, have you been saved or something?”

I smirk. “You could say that.”


End file.
